


Still Here

by Rat_cult



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Autistic Ben, F/F, F/M, I changed their backstories, M/M, Scene girl Nina, Slow Burn, Tradgoth jane, Zombie Apocalypse, grunge Natalie, non-verbal Ben, poc nina, punk jeff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25095781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rat_cult/pseuds/Rat_cult
Summary: I had to change the backstories of each of the characters, some of them only slightly but others changed quite a lot.
Relationships: Jane Arkensaw | Jane the killer/Natalie Ouellette | Clockwork, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby/Jeffrey Woods | Jeff The Killer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coprolalia—the involuntary utterance of obscene words and gestures or socially inappropriate and derogatory remarks
> 
> CIPA—the inability to feel pain and temperature, and decreased or absent sweating
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: F slur

Small pebbles crunched under his feet as Toby wandered through the long abandoned junkyard, his bandaged fingers gripped a rusty hatchet so tightly his knuckles turned white. A cool breeze blew through they yard, blowing Toby's messy brown hair out of his face. The daylight was slowly slipping away, it'd be dark within the hour, if he couldn't find a safe place before nightfall he might not survive. He had only managed to make it this far by dumb luck but it seemed his luck had run out, Toby was currently standing in an open area with nowhere to hide, he hadn't eaten in days, and he wouldn't have the energy to fight back if he was attacked.

The soft sound of wind was all Toby could hear, the junkyard was quiet, too quiet. Toby stood still listening for anything other then the wind, crunching of pebbles came from behind him but before he could react a blunt object struck him over the head, knocking the brunette to the ground. Before he lost consciousness he heard a raspy voice say "goodnight fucker."

* * *

There was the familiar sound of fire crackling and popping along with a sound Toby couldn't quite recognize, it sounded kinda like metal scraping. The brunette opened his eyes to see what was going on only to find he was blindfolded, he tried to reach up to take it off but he seemed to be tied up. His captor must have noticed his struggling, "oh you're finally awake, good," the same raspy voice from before said, something Dropped to the ground, it sounded like metal or stone, possibly whatever had been scraping, "y'know your the first human I've encountered in months. Oh and sorry for the restraints, hard to tell friend from foe. Last person I met was completely insane, and that's odd because people usually think I'm the crazy one," he said as he crouched down in front of Toby and removed his blindfold, "sadly I can't untie you until I'm sure you can be trusted. You understand, right?"

Toby observered his surroundings, he was still in the junkyard, tied up on the rocky ground next to an old white van, like the ones you're parents warned you about as a child. A small fire was burning a couple feet away from him and some type of meat was cooking on it, Toby's mouth watered at the thought of getting to eat something other then canned beans. A lawn chair sat next to the fire, Toby's captor sat down in it, he had sickly pale skin—though that was understandable in times like these, he was probably malnourished— and black hair that hung down to his shoulders, his eyes were sunken and he was sporting quite a few facial piercings. His outfit seemed to match his black and white aesthetic, a white stained hoodie and ripped black jeans, along with a pair of black platform boots with spikes sown on. The man picked Toby's hatchet off the ground and held it in his in his hand, examining the weapon, "you must be a strange kid Tobias, I mean, what kind of idiot would use a close combat weapon like an axe to kill zombies?" He asked as he twirled the hatchet in his fingers, "I also noticed you had a phone, who you calling when everyone's dead, huh? Seriously kid what's the point of having a phone right now, the only purpose I can think of is music but CDs and tapes exist so it's pretty useless.”

A sharp pop came from Toby's neck as his head jerked to the side, "how—FUCK SHIT—do you know my name? And don't call me kid!" This stranger didn't look much older than him, he had no right to be calling Toby a kid.

The man reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet, "Laws are obsolete, you don't have to pay for shit anymore, so why carry around a wallet in the middle of an apocalypse? This is your wallet, right?" He opened it up and pulled out a drivers license, "Tobias Erin Rogers, you're twenty-one years old, I'm older than you and I'll call you a kid if I wanna. Y'see tobias—can I call you Toby? I'm gonna call you Toby—y'see Toby, I would have cut you up and traded your meat to the cannibal a couple towns over for some shrooms, but then I realized that's unfair, you would have had no fighting chance. So here's your chance, give me a good reason to let you live, y'know, humanize yourself so I would feel bad for killing you," silver snakebites and dimple piercings shifted as the mans face twisted into a sick smile, like he was exited to watch Toby beg for his life. 

_This guy is fucking crazy_ , Toby thought to himself, "you, uh," Toby had to choose his words carefully, "you know how hard it is surviving the—COCK SUCKER—apocalypse on your own, you can't even go get food without encountering a swarm of zombies. With no one to watch your back you're always in danger, but if you—BITCH TITS—let me live we can work together, mutually assured survival. I can help you fight zombies or get supplies, you just have to let me live," he said as his arm tried to jerk to the side but was stopped by the restraints.

A raspy laugh came from Toby's captor "and what makes you think I need help, I've survived this long on my own, haven't I?" he said as he poked the fire with a stick. 

"I'm sure you're doing a great job at surviving on your own, but there's gotta be—FAGGOT—something you need me for, everyone needs something, I can help you," Toby let out a yip, "you just gotta let me live," he said, desperately hoping it would work and he wouldn't die in a junkyard at the hands of some psycho. 

The man stared at Toby, his facial expression unreadable, "what's with the swearing?" 

Toby cracked his fingers, "I have Tourette's, I'm not doing it on purpose."

"Hmn," the man hummed, he seemed to be off in his own thoughts. It remained silent for a couple minutes, the only noises being the crackling of the fire and Toby's occasional tics. Shadows danced across the mans face, making his piercings shine every time the light from the fire hit them just right. The man shook his head and snapped back to reality, "ok I'll let you live, but you gotta follow my rules okay kid?"

Toby scowled, "stop calling me kid and you've got a—EAT MY DICK—deal," he really didn't want anything to do with this lunatic but his life was on the line.

The man smirked, "Thanks for the offer, maybe buy me dinner first and we'll see," he chuckled at his own joke as he stood up and walked over to where Toby was laying on the ground. The man squatted down next to Toby and began to untie his restraints, "rule one, don't ask stupid questions, stupidity enrages me," he said as he finished with the last of the knots, Toby's now freed arm jerked to the side. The man reached over and grabbed the meat cooking on the fire, handing it to Toby, "eat up, you look like you haven't eaten in days."

Cold wind blew through the junkyard as Toby ate his food, of course he wasn't able to feel the cold but it sent a shiver down his captors spine. The man stared at Toby as he ate, "so um..." Toby didn't like the way those sunken eyes met his own, "are you gonna tell me your name or...?" He let out a yip and jerked his neck to the side.

The man nodded, "right, of course," he held out his hand for Toby to shake, "you can call me Jeff."

Toby hesitantly shook his captors hand. Jeff looked up at the sky, noticing how dark it was getting, "we should head inside," he picked up a bucket and dumped it's contents on the fire, successfully dousing it. He dropped the bucket and pulled Toby up off the ground, leading him inside the van. Toby thought it was kind of ironic, as a child he was warned to avoid strange men in white vans and here he was willing following the man that tried to kill him into his creepy van. The interior wasn't anything special, the seats at the back had been removed in place of an old stained twin size mattress, and the leather on the two front seats was cracked and torn in places. There was a couple of items by the old mattress, a grey backpack, an empty gas can, a hand gun, and a bag of food. Jeff picked up the bag and pulled out a box of Cheerios, eating them by the handful. He stared at the brunette, "how long has it been since you slept?" He asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"A bit over—CUNT—three days. Why?"

Jeff swallowed the cereal in his mouth, "the bags under your eyes are huge" he chuckled lightly as he stuffed more Cheerios in his face. Tobys arm jerked and his eye twitched, "so how'd you end up here? Is there anywhere specific you were trying to go? Like spending the apocalypse with family or something?" Jeff asked.

"God no, I'd rather become a zombie than hang—HORSESHIT—out with my family! I moved out a couple years ago and I have no interest in moving back in, besides they're probably dead by now," Toby yipped again and jerked his wrist, "I've honestly just been wandering and looking for a safe place, I wanna find—SLUT—somewhere I can live in peace without worrying for my life." He said, "how about you?"

Bits of cereal flung from Jeff's mouth as he talked without swallowing his food, "I doubt any of my family's alive either, I haven't seen them since I was fourteen. Even if they were alive they hate my guts, think I'm a monster, I can't blame them honestly, I've done some monstrous things. We used to have an old vacation house up in the mountains, it was quiet and secluded, that's where I'm going. I think it will be semi-safe from zombies," 

A confused expression crossed Toby's face, "you haven't seen your family since you were fourteen?" He asked.

"Rule number two, don't ask about my past or family," Jeff said as he scratched at one of his dimple piercings

Toby made an obscene gesture with his hand, "you're just making—PUSSY—these rules up as we go along, aren't you?"

"Pretty much."

* * *

"Hey Toby, hey, hey, wake up fucker!" Toby awoke to to Jeff poking him in the forehead repeatedly, he let out a grunt and pushed Jeff's hand away, "good, you're up." Toby rubbed his eyes tiredly, he looked up at his surroundings, he must have fallen asleep on the bed last night, it was the best sleep he'd gotten in weeks. Jeff stood in front of the brunette with his arms crossed, Toby noticed he was wearing a leather vest over his white hoodie, it was covered in patches and spikes. Toby sat there staring at the pale man, "cmon get ready, we're going out," Jeff said as he loaded his gun, "you said you would help if I let you live."

Toby ran a bandaged hand through his messy hair, now that he was slowly regaining continuous he realized his goggles and sweater were missing, he could have sworn he had them on last night, "uh, hey Jeff, did you—SON OF A WHORE—do something with my goggles?" Toby asked, turning to look at the man.

"yeah they're on the passengers seat with the rest of your stuff," 

Toby stood up and walked over to the front of the van, he reached over into the seat and grabbed his brown sweater, tying it around his waist. He adjusted his goggles so they sat comfortably on his eyes. He picked up his hatchet and ran his finger along the blade, it quickly drew blood, for most people that would hurt but Toby couldn’t feel the pain, "did you sharpen—YIP YIP—my hatchet?"

"Yeah." Jeff said as he laced up his boots, they almost went up to his knee but he covered them with his jeans. It was obvious when Jeff stood up that the boots were unnecessary and impractical, the platforms couldn't have been that thick, five inches at most, maybe six, but it altered Jeff's height enough that his head hit the ceiling of the van. Toby wondered how tall Jeff actually was, he only appeared a couple inches taller than Toby with the boots on so he was probably shorter than Toby with them off. "You slept through the drive, we're heading into Walmart to get some supplies. A small population in this town means less people ransacking stores, so even though it's been forever since this bullshit started there should still be some stuff left. If not we'll go to the foodbank, there should be plenty of non-perishables there,"

Jeff slid open the van door, gun in hand, ready to fight if necessary. The parking lot was empty with the exception of Jeff's van and some garbage. Jeff stepped out on to the asphalt, his heavy boots making a rather loud noise as they collided with the ground. Toby followed closely behind him, keeping an eye out for any zombies. They had to pry the store doors open, the automatic censors has broken long ago. Luckily most of the lights inside still worked so they were able to see. Jeff was right, there was still quite a bit of stuff on the shelves.

A low growl came from one of the isles, Toby griped his hatchet tightly, ready to swing at any second. There was a shuffling sound and a zombie came towards them, not quite running but faster than a jog. Bits of decaying flesh clung to its body, it's mouth was covered in blood and it's arm looked broken. Before Toby could react Jeff fired two shots into its head, "I'm going to get more ammo," he said as he took a shopping cart and rolled it to Toby, who caught it, "fill that with whatever food you can find." Jeff quickly walked away, his boots clacking against the linoleum floor. 

Toby began to walk down the isles, sweeping what he could from the shelves. Canned meat and beans, pasta, rice, oatmeal, canned soup, crackers, cereal, bottled water, instant coffee, trail mix, pickles, and vitamin supplements. It was eerily quiet in the store, the only sounds being the buzzing of florescent lights and the squeaking of the carts wheels. Toby let out a yip and jerked his arm to the side, hitting himself in the chest. Boredom quickly began to bother Toby, it was too quiet and too bright. He grabbed onto the cart handle and placed one foot on the metal bottom, using the other to push off and send the cart rolling before placing it next to the first foot on the metal bottom. The cart rolled down the isles fast enough Toby could feel a slight breeze in his messy hair. As the cart got closer to the wall Toby took his feet off the bottom and scraped the heels of his converse on the floor to slow the cart. 

The familiar clacking of Jeff's boots was heard as he walked back over to Toby, bag of ammo in one hand and handgun in the other. "Oh wow that's a lot," he said as he stared at the cart full of food, "you can wheel that out to the van, I'm gonna grab one of those bins to keep it in," Jeff pointed at the blue Rubbermaid bins.

Toby tried to nod in response but his neck jerked to the side. He rolled the cart out the doors and into the parking lot. Jeff came out a minute later with a bin, they packed the food into the bin and loaded it into the van. "y'know I wasn't actually expecting you to be so helpful when you first suggested it," Jeff said as he got into drivers seat.

"I try to keep my word when—COCK AND BALL TORTURE—my life's on the line" Toby said as he hoped into the passenger seat.

Jeff laughed, "I- I'm sorry, cock and ball torture?" He asked, unable to stop laughing.

Toby scowled, "I can't help my tics."

"I know but that ones just really fucking funny," it took a while for Jeff to stop laughing, "and don't worry you're life's not on the line, I won't kill you unless necessary. But if I were to kill you I wonder how I would do it, I could shoot you, or leave you for the zombies, or bludgeon you with your hatchet, or I could slit your throat and watch you suffocate on your own blood," he said with a sick smile. 

"Could you please not—YIP—plot my murder while I'm sitting right here?"

Jeff chuckled, "I'm only kidding, don't take things so seriously. Society has collapsed, you can do whatever you want without judgement, loosen up dude."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: emetophobia, r slur, f slur, implied s*lf h*rm, referenced child abuse/neglect, mild body horror

The seemingly endless road stretched out in front of the van as they drove, half devoured corpses littered the asphalt, Jeff did his best to avoid hitting them but occasionally there would be a bump under the wheels and the knots in Toby stomach would tighten. Toby tried to focus on the song playing from the radio, he didn't really like it but anything was better then the thoughts in his own head. It had been so long since he'd last been in a car, before this he had done everything in his power to avoid them. He hadn't felt comfortable around cars since he was 17 but he didn't want to tell Jeff that, he wasn't the type of person to open up about his trauma. Driving places had proven to be quiet useful when zombies were everywhere, so Toby tried to ignore how anxious it made him and how much he wanted to throw up. 

"That was Midnight City by M83," said the radio host as the song faded out, his voice was similar to Jeff's but not quite as gravely, it was deep and soothing but it had this hint of something behind it, something abnormal, like two people were speaking at the same time with slightly different pitches. There was a low growl behind that voice, like a dog, it was similar to how Toby always imagined a demon would sound, of course he stopped believing in demons long ago, but something about that voice scared him. The radio host continued speaking in his soothing voice, as scary as he sounded he still had a great voice for radio, "today marks six months since the outbreak, and since I started this radio show, happy anniversary my dear listeners. I must say it's been a pleasure. This next songs for you pissboy, you emo fuck, for your listening pleasure here's The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance," his voice faded out and the song faded in, " _well it rains and pores when you're..._ "

Toby glanced over at Jeff, he couldn't read his expression, "asshole," Jeff muttered under his breath. He seemed angry but he also seemed to really like the song. He tapped his left foot on the van floor, matching the beat coming from the radio, he reached over and turned the volume knob up. A smile crossed his face as the chorus approached and he began to sing, his gravely voice fit well with the song, " _I've really been on a bender and it shows, so why don't you blow me a kiss before she goes. Give me a shot to remember, and you can take all the pain away from me, your kiss and I will surrender, the sharpest lives are the deadliest to lead. A light to burn all the empires, so bright the sun is ashamed to rise and be in love with all of these vampires. So you can leave like the sane, abandon me..._ " he wasn't a great singer but he looked like he enjoyed the song. 

Jeff failed to notice how Toby was staring at him, it wasn't meant to be weird Toby just needed a distraction from his own thoughts, and studying how Jeff's face moved when he sang worked. Silver piercings glistened as the light from the sunset shown through the windshield and illuminated Jeff's face. Toby had taken the time to count them, one in each cheek, two in each eyebrow, two on his bottom lip, one septum piercing, five in his right ear, and three in his left, adding up to 17 piercings in total. They looked good on him, Toby had thought about getting one before but decided against it, the look just wasn't for him. 

The van ran over another corpse, it's lifeless body providing the same result as a speed bump. Toby jumped slightly in his seat, he reached a hand up to his face and covered his mouth in an attempt to keep his lunch down. God he hated cars. He pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his head on the window, he just wanted this car ride to end. It had to end eventually, the sun was almost fully set and Jeff couldn't stay awake forever. Jeff seemed to noticed the other mans discomfort, he turned down the radio and tapped Toby on the shoulder, "car sick?" His empathy sound fake, like he was trying to seem nice but couldn't give less of a shit about how Toby felt. Toby nodded, afraid if he opened his mouth the only thing to come out would be bile. Jeff veered off to the side of the road and parked the van.

As soon as the van stopped moving Toby opened his door and stumbled out, he fell to his knees and wretched. Jeff got out and walked over to stand by his side, he wasn't really sure what to do so he just patted Toby on the back, comforting people never really was his strong suit. Toby finished emptying his stomach, a bitter taste left in his mouth, he reached up and wiped away any bile from his lips with the sleeve of his turtleneck. He looked over to Jeff, who was walking back to the van, he slid the door open and climbed into the back. Toby stood up, his body felt weak and shaky, he stumbled after Jeff, climbing into the back of the van and closing the door. Jeff was sitting on the edge of the bed untying the laces of his boots, he looked up to meet Toby's gaze, "you ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, fine," Toby answered, his neck jerking to the side. 

Jeff slid his boots off and set them aside, "we're gonna stop for the night, get some sleep, continue in the morning," he said as he opened up the blue bin holding their food, "do you want some food or will you throw up again?" He pulled out a can of beans and offered it to Toby.

"I'll eat, we've stopped—BITCH TITS—moving so I should be fine," he took the can from Jeff and grabbed the tab, peeling the lid off. Jeff handed him a spoon and opened his own can. It was silent for a couple minutes, neither of them knew what to say, they really didn't know anything about each other, they were complete strangers. Toby let out a yip, he didn't like the awkward silence, "so, uh... could you tell me a little bit about yourself? It's hard to—CUNT—trust you when I know absolutely nothing about you."

"Ok, what do you want to know?" 

Toby jerked his arm to the side, almost spilling his beans, "anything." 

Jeff paused, thinking to himself, "uh... lets see, I'm twenty-three, I'm a Gemini if you believe in that bullshit, my favourite colour is green... y'know this would be a lot easier if you were asking me questions instead of me just telling you things," he seemed annoyed at the situation, "is there anything in particular you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know... what—MOTHER FUCKER—brought you here? How'd you end up in the back of a van eating beans with a stranger?"

Jeff laid back on the bed, "oh jeez, where to start, well I discovered I was an adrenaline junkie at an early age. When this bullshit started I thought the thrill of fighting zombies would be fun but they're rather boring to kill because they don't react to whatever pain you inflict on them. Still I decided being free to do whatever I wanted was better than being cooped up in some safehouse."

Toby was visibly confused, "but when we met you said—RETARD—you were traveling to find somewhere safe?" 

"I lied, I do that a lot. Well I guess it's not entirely a lie, the place we're going is safe, that's just not the reason we're going there. I've left a lot of things behind on my journey through life, and I have a feeling some of them are in that house," Jeff paused and smiled to himself, "it's been a while since I've been there, twelve years, the mountains were always so beautiful. We shouldn't have been able to afford a vacation house but mommy dearest had this annoying habit of spending our child benefits on whatever she wanted instead of her actual children," from the look on Jeffs face he hadn't meant to say that much, he quickly tried to think of a way to steer the conversation away from his shitty childhood.

Before Jeff could say something to distract from his last statement Toby interrupted him, "at least your family could afford shit," he hadn't meant to sound as salty as he did, but it was to late to take it back.

"Yeah but it was conditional, dear old dad had a reputation to uphold, he couldn't have us ruining that." Jeff was unable to stop himself from talking about his trauma, once he started he needed someone else to stop him or he would pour his heart out, a habit he hated himself for. The memories of everything he had been through flooded his mind, he wanted so desperately to forget them. Jeff blindly reached over for his backpack, he didn't want to bother getting up, luckily it was only an arms length away. He pulled it closer and unzipped the main compartment, reaching in and pulling out a glass bottle, he pushed the backpack away and took a swig from the bottle, "sadly I was what you would call a 'problem child' and dad hated me for it, mom only cared when I brought home good grades."

Jeff took another swig and held out the bottle for Toby, who took it, _Malabo coconut vodka_ it read, Toby wasn't really a drinker but he took a sip anyway, making a sour face as soon as the liquor hit his tongue. Jeff laughed at this, "you're supposed to drink it fast, that way you don't have to taste it as much."

"I know how to drink," Toby said defensively, letting out a yip. He stared at the bottle, it reminded him of his father, always drunk, always angry, there were so many times he contemplated killing the fat oaf, or killing himself so he wouldn't have to deal with the constant abuse anymore. He took a swig and tried to ignore his thoughts, instead trying to focus on what Jeff had been saying, "if it makes you feel any better my dad—SON OF A WHORE—hated me too, so we're in the same boat."

Toby passed the bottle back to Jeff, who rolled his eyes, "wow thanks dude, knowing you had bad parents totally makes me feel better about my own shitty family," he said sarcastically, drinking down the booze, escapism always has been his copping mechanism, sadly it didn't work as well as it used to. Jeff reached up to his face and began to fiddle with his septum piercing, "well if your childhood was shitty like mine why not tell me about it, I'd love to hear some horror stories."

"Oh please, I'm not—ASSHOLE—gonna tell you shit, give me one good reason why I should?" Toby let out another yip.

"Because I told you about my childhood so if you tell me about yours we'll be even, and I could easily kill you if I wanted, that's two reasons," Jeff said with a sadistic smirk, he took a swig and handed the bottle to Toby. 

"...bastard," Toby mumbled under his breath, snatching the bottle from Jeff's hand and taking a swig, "fine. My dad was an alcoholic, he was—HORSESHIT—always drunk and enjoyed taking his anger out on us, my mom was always too scared to—FAGGOT—stand up to him. I got bullied relentlessly in school because of my tics. And throughout my teenage—COCK SUCKER—years I was constantly tormented by hallucinations of my dead sister. Was that enough information for you?" He said sharply, he didn't enjoy opening up.

Jeff seemed taken aback by Toby's sudden defensiveness, he wasn't expecting the brunette to get angry over this, "yeah... uh, yeah, that was enough, sorry man," it didn't sound like a genuine apology but Toby probably wouldn't be getting a better one. Jeff watched him put the bottle to his chapped lips and down half the contents, Jeff's eyes made their way to Toby's hand, gripping the bottle tightly, it was wrapped in bandages. Toby handed the bottle to Jeff, who took it, still staring at Toby's hands, "so... what's with the your hands? How'd you hurt them?" Jeff asked, breaking the silence.

Toby paused and looked down at his hands, it had been forever since he changed his bandages, they were filthy. He frowned as he thought about the marks hidden underneath, "I have a problem with biting them, it's one of my negative stims." 

"I thought stimming was just for autistic people?" 

"No, it's for everyone," Toby traced his fingers along the back of his hand, "because I can't feel pain I often—SHIT EATER—end up biting too hard, I only realize after I can taste the blood in my mouth. I try not to bite them because I know it isn't—YIP YIP YIP—healthy but I can't really stop myself. The skin never really heals right, they're so chewed up and lumpy that even if I don't need to wear bandages I just prefer to keep them covered."

Jeff got up from his spot on the bed, sitting in front of Toby on the floor, "no way, you can't feel pain? that's so cool! Can I see them? I really like body horror and that just sounds really neat, please please please let me see them!" He begged, he was as excited as a kid in a candy shop. 

A light blush crossed Toby's cheeks, he gave a soft smile. Nobody had ever called his CIPA cool before, they always thought he was a freak, but here was Jeff, begging to see his self-mutilated hands because he thought it was cool. for one in his life he wasn't being prosecuted for his disorders, Jeff thought they were cool, "sure," Toby said with a smile, he rolled up one of his sleeves and began to unwrap the bandages on that arm, they started halfway down his forearm. As Jeff watched him unwrap them he noticed a handful of linear scars all parallel to each other on Toby's wrist, he chose not to mention them, he didn't want to make Toby uncomfortable, he just wanted to see his hands. 

The last of that arms bandages were removed from Toby's fingers and set on the van floor next to him, the brunette quickly rolled down the sleeve of his turtleneck and held his hand out for Jeff to see. Jeff grabbed his hand and pulled it into his lap, he stared at it, tracing his fingers along the scarred skin. Toby's fingers were misshapen, lumpy and slightly crooked, like he spent a lot of time chewing on them, the back of his hand was similar, lumpy and discoloured, the scars felt rough, slightly leathery. Some scars were clearer than others, in some places Jeff could see individual teeth marks and in others it just looked like a chunk of flesh had been torn out and grown back wrong. Despite the skin being mostly scar tissue Toby's hands were still soft, and undeniably warm, Jeff liked the feeling of holding them, "wow..." Jeff said, staring at the hand instead of meeting Toby's eyes, "that's so fucking cool. So how is it that you can't feel pain? That sounds really interesting." 

Toby blushed again, he wasn't used to getting called cool or interesting and the compliments made him really happy, "well I've got CIPA, it's a neurological disorder caused—FUCKING CUNT—by a genetic mutation. Basically my pain receptors aren't connected properly so when I get injured my brain doesn't know. Oh, and I can't feel temperature or regulate my internal—BITCH—body temperature, so I'm unable to sweat. About a quarter of people with CIPA die before they're three from hypothermia" Toby explained. 

He looked at Jeff, who's mouth was slightly agape, "that's so cool!" Jeff said excitedly, causing Toby blush more, "but it's odd that you can't feel heat because your hands are really warm," Toby looked down and saw that Jeff was still holding his un-bandaged hand in his own.

The brunette quickly pulled his hand away and reached into the pocket of his hoodie, which was tied around his waist, "really? They shouldn't be," he pulled out a small thermometer and stuck it in his mouth.

"Do you always carry that with you?" Jeff asked.

"It's necessary," he answered simply, the device still between his lips, he waited a couple seconds before pulling it out. _98.8°_ It read, "huh, I guess I just have warm hands, I never knew that," he let out a yip and jerked his neck to the side.

Jeff looked at the clock on the radio, upon seeing the time he stood up, "it's late and if I drink anymore I'm gonna start saying things I'll regret, we should get some sleep, you can have the bed tonight, I'll sleep in my seat," he said, crawling over the gear shift into the front seat. Toby nodded and got up from the ground, walking over to the bed and lying down. Jeff was definitely one of the weirdest people he'd ever met, he talked about his past in an almost nostalgic way but he still sounded upset about it, and he seems to change moods quickly. He still couldn't understand why Jeff decided to let him live, the man was strange and unpredictable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I don’t reply to comments, I’m autistic and I struggle with communication. If you notice any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors please tell me so I can fix them


End file.
